


Who I Really Am

by flipflop_diva



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5 Times, During Canon, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Natasha Needs a Hug, Natasha-centric, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Protective Steve Rogers, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 07:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3602019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha has spent her whole life making sure no one really knows who she is and how she feels, so it’s unnerving to her that one look into his kind blue eyes and she’s spilling secrets she didn’t mean to share. Based on the prompt <i>inside, outside, upside down</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who I Really Am

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 24-hour flash fic challenge at [Tower Party](http://towerparty.livejournal.com/) on LJ.

The first time it happened, she blamed it on the fact that her whole world as she knew it was crumbling down — again — and on top of that, he had just saved her life. She owed him, and there wasn’t anything else she could give him but that. A piece of who she was, who she really was. It’s what he had asked of her the day before in the car. She had told him no then, in no uncertain terms, but things were different after someone carried your unconscious body for miles when they could have just left you for dead. There was only one other person in her entire life who would have done that for her, and she wasn’t sure how that made her feel, except like she owed him more than she could ever repay him.

So when he asked for the truth — not in so many words, but with the way he was looking at her — it slipped out.

“When I joined SHIELD, I thought I was going straight,” she whispered, afraid that if she spoke too loud, it would shatter her. “I thought I knew whose lies I was telling. I guess I can’t tell anymore.”

He smiled at her after that confession, teased her to make her feel better, told her a few minutes later that he trusted her. She felt more exposed than she had in a really long time, and it unnerved her. She had made a life not needing anyone, but she knew she wasn’t going to get through this without him. She didn’t tell him that, though. Instead, she asked him how he could be so cheerful, then excused herself to go straighten her hair.

•••

The second time it happened was just a few hours later, but she blamed it on the fact that the shocks just kept on coming. Not just Hydra now, but Bucky being alive, Fury being alive. And now they were going to take down SHIELD, the one thing she had been clinging to for the past eight years. It felt like starting over, but she wasn’t sure she was ready. It had been hard enough to leave the Red Room, but at least she had something to leave for.

It was almost dawn, but she couldn’t sleep. Neither could he. She slipped inside the room he had been assigned for the night just to check, and he smiled at her and gestured her over. She sat by his side, knees pulled to her chest, and stared into nothingness. He didn’t press her or try to touch her or do anything except sit beside her and wait.

Finally the words came, no longer able to be kept inside.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” she whispered, always whispering her confessions, like they could break her. “I know this is not about me and it doesn’t matter how I feel, but …”

She stopped, unable to go on. His hand moved, slid into hers, his warm fingers gliding between hers.

“I promise, Nat,” he said softly, “there is nothing in those files that will change what I think about you.”

“You have no idea who I used to be. Of what I’ve done.”

“I know who you are now. It’s all that matters.”

She didn’t answer, didn’t tell him he was wrong. She should have, but for a moment, it was nice to think someone believed in her. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the feeling of his hand in hers and wished she didn’t have to let go.

•••

The third time it happened was months later, and she blamed it on being not completely coherent at the time. 

She hadn’t seen him, or anyone from their old life, in weeks. She had disappeared just like she had planned, with the intention of becoming someone else, but something had been tickling the back of her mind since she’d left. A feeling that she somehow still owed him so much more than she’d given him.

She hated that she still thought about him, almost all the time it seemed. He popped into her mind before she fell asleep at night and when she opened her eyes in the morning and at other inconvenient times throughout the day, until finally she couldn’t stand it. 

Besides, she was bored. And restless. She didn’t know how to handle things when she didn’t have orders or missions or tasks to complete. There had never been a period in her life when she’d had time to develop a hobby or go on vacation and the idea of doing either of those now made her a bit queasy. She wouldn’t even know the first place to start.

But she did know how to do the impossible, and it only took her a few hours to find out that Steve had made no progress finding Bucky (which didn’t really surprise her. Steve wasn’t cut out for the life that was her nature). So she set out to do it herself.

It hadn’t been easy to track down his location, but it hadn’t really been hard, but somehow over the months off, she must have become a little rusty. She hadn’t even heard him behind her, not until his metal arm was around her throat and he was squeezing, lifting her off the ground with one hand like she was a doll, and there was nothing she could do.

Her eyes fluttered open to see a familiar pair of blue eyes staring down at her, a worried expression adorning them.

“Natasha, what were you thinking?” he said gently, and she felt his fingers brush over her hair.

“I ….” The word came out as a croak, searing pain burning its way down her throat.

“Shhhh,” he said, and he was lifting her up, cradling her against him. “Don’t try to talk.”

“…. owed you.” She had to get that out, couldn’t leave it inside. She wanted to say more, to ask him how he found her, to tell him she was fine and she could walk thank you very much and to put her down, but instead she let her head rest against his strong chest and closed her eyes.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he told her later that night as he carefully tucked her into bed in his apartment and put more ointment on the marks on her neck.

“I owe you everything,” she murmured before she could stop herself. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

If he answered her, she didn’t hear it, but she did feel the warm flush of embarrassment as she drifted back into sleep.

•••

The fourth time it happened was a couple weeks later, and she blamed it on not being right in the head. Seriously, she was beginning to think something was really wrong with her. She hadn’t been the same since Steve had saved her from the Winter Soldier, and it was more than just the knowledge that Bucky had gotten away again and this time it was her fault and now she owed Steve even more than she had owed him to start with.

She felt off and a little lost and like she really wasn’t sure who she was anymore. 

She had been staying with Steve since he had found her. He had insisted, and she had pretended to argue and be offended that he thought she couldn’t take care of herself and then she had scowled at him when he told her that maybe he was the one who needed someone and not her and finally she had reluctantly agreed. But they both knew she could leave if she really wanted — it wasn’t like he was tying her down or kept a gun to her head — and the fact that she didn’t even try spoke volumes.

She hated that she liked staying with him, but it was nice to have something that felt familiar, _someone_ who felt familiar. And he was ever the gentleman, letting her have the bed while he slept on the couch, even though it made her feel incredibly guilty since she had slept on way less comfortable things than a couch before.

The nightmare came out of nowhere — she hadn’t had one in ages — but in it, she was small and helpless and hands were holding her down and strapping electrodes to her head and she knew what was coming and she fought and screamed and screamed and screamed, until the hands holding her stopped trying to hurt her and instead were stroking her hair and rubbing her back and he was whispering to her over and over and over that she was safe and he had her and no one was going to hurt her.

She felt like a child as she buried her head in Steve’s chest and tried not to cry and asked him if he could please just stay with her for a bit.

“I get nightmares too,” he told her, hours later, after she had finally calmed down. She was wrapped in his arms and it bothered her that she had no desire to move away.

“I’m scared of going back there,” she whispered, “to that place, where I don’t have any control.” She had never told anyone that before. She felt Steve’s arms tighten around her.

“You won’t,” was all he said.

•••

The fifth time it happened was the night before they moved into Avengers Towers, and this time she didn’t blame it on anything. This time she wanted it to happen, she wanted him to hear the truth, more than she had ever let herself want anything before.

They had been sleeping together ever since the night she had the nightmare. It had just been sleeping for a while, and then she had kissed him and he had kissed her back. She’d told herself, once it became full on sex, that it was nothing more than a physical release, something they both needed, and it didn’t mean anything. She could walk away at any time, and she would be fine. But lying there, that night, looking into his eyes and knowing everything was going to change in the morning, she felt an ache in her chest she had never felt before.

She traced the contours of his jaw with her fingers and smiled at him sadly. “This is the last time I get to do this,” she said.

He tilted his head and frowned at her. His hand was drawing soft circles on the skin over her hip. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“Yes, it does,” she said. “It will be different when we’re with everyone.”

“We don’t have to go.”

“Yes, we do,” she said. “Tony’s been asking us for months. And neither one of us is very good being on our own.”

“We’re not on our own.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Natasha.” Steve leaned forward until his forehead was touching hers. “It doesn’t have to change,” he said again.

“Steve …”

“I love you. And I’m not going to stop loving you just because other people are around.”

Her fingers froze on his face. She pulled back, eyes wide. He had never said that to her before, but the expression on his face, deadly serious, told her he meant every word. A part of her wanted to recoil in horror. Love wasn’t for people like her. Love only got you hurt, got you killed. It’s what she had been taught since before she could remember.

But the way Steve was looking at her, the way his hand felt against her body, the way her heart thudded against her chest like it was trying to escape.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak.

“It’s okay,” he told her. “It can change if you want it to. I don’t expect you to feel the same.”

She moved then, leaned back in, pressed her lips to his, hard. “I don’t want things to change,” she breathed against him, and she felt like it was the most true thing she had ever said.

She wanted to tell him more, wished she could tell him more, but some secrets were going to be harder to reveal, even to herself.

It didn’t matter though. As Steve found the hem of her shirt and lifted it over her head, his lips finding hers again immediately afterward, she knew he understood what she was trying to say. He always could read her. She hated it once, but now it was the one thing in their world that made her feel safe.

She just hoped it would never change.


End file.
